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1-2-2003 - 5:21 p.m.
Surprise Party New Year�s Eve the B-gurlz spring a surprise party on me. Apparently everyone in their peer group has already spent their Christmas bucks. They are all broke and without a place to ring in the new year and/or party down. Somewhere around 4pm, I am informed that the Misters and I are chaperoning a gathering of their friends. Did the B-gurlz ask me if they could have a party? Of course not. The first I hear of this affair is when Kelly�s mother calls to thank �my wife and I� for hosting the party and to make sure that we aren�t serving alcohol. Deep breath, stay in the moment. It�s going to be fine. I assure Kelly�s mom that we won�t be serving alcohol to minors, not adding that I had no freakin� idea WHAT we were serving and then head downstairs to the basement lair of the B-gurlz so they could start the �splain�.
2 days ago they were both flat on their backs in bed with acute sinus infections, claiming they were dying. They must be feeling better The ladies are busy decorating and cleaning. Decorating means scattering votive candles everywhere. Cleaning means taking all their dirty clothes off the floor and dumping them in front of the washing machine. Cleaning apparently did not mean taking a scrub brush to their bathroom, emptying the trash or taking dirty dishes back to the kitchen. I speculate aloud that Miss Martha Stewart would NEVER throw a party without at least cleaning the bathroom. I refrain from offering them the use of the good guest towels and little soaps that look like seashells. Nobody of the gay persuasion was coming that would appreciate the effort �Have we at least planned a menu?� I ask, because I don�t see a hint of any food. All the time my inner Martha is screaming to me that avocados are in season and we could whip up a bitchin� guacamole with blue corn chips and alcohol free margaritas served in those great cobalt blue glasses we got in Mexico a few years ago, and then we will throw the old serape over the bar and maybe get a pi�ata. The planned menu is to be microwave popcorn and the leftover Christmas cookies. There is one lonely, dusty 2liter bottle of ginger ale that they have foraged from the pantry. You know, the one we keep on hand for upset stomachs. This isn�t sounding like much of a party. I try not to scream in frustration. There is a Plan B: �We could order pizza if you will pay for it and we can pay you back.� �And activities? I ask stupidly, reminding them that we have Cranium, Pictionary and Trivial Pursuit. They roll their eyes at me as if I had suggested pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. I am the lamest creature that has ever sucked in oxygen. �We are going to watch movies and chill� they answer Sure, fine whatever. Let your party be a dismal flop. Inner Martha is reminding me to check the downstairs freezer to make sure we have extra ice. I shake my finger at them in a fashion that I hope looks stern and parental. �You have both been sick. The party breaks up no later than 1am and ONLY because it�s New Year�s Eve.� I point to the overflowing ashtrays. �No smoking in the house�no smoking of ANYTHING. And for God's sake, put out a fresh roll of toilet paper! Are we clear?� We are clear. Hawk and Mikey return from their long days of saving lives and wanting nothing more that a quiet dinner, a little after dinner conversation and perhaps sex around midnight, if we stay awake that long. Afterall, it is a special occasion. They are less than pleased to discover that we are chaperoning a teenage party. �Is it going to be noisy?� asks Zen-master Mikey? �Are they going to be smoking in the basement� ask pediatric pulmonologist Hawk. I assure them that it will be fine. I lied. 10 young people arrive. The party is noisy, real noisy. They smoke in the basement. They smoke dope in the basement and try to lure me into taking a hit. I don�t indulge because I am the parent, damn it! They try to get the cat stoned. They sneak in a bottle of Cold Duck (gag), split it between the 10 of them and drink it out of paper cups. Not-my-boyfriend Daniel throws up in the sink. They order $44 worth of pizza and stick Hawk for the bill. Mikey bails on us, calls up 'a friend' and the two of them 'retire early' Hawk and I watch the Cirque du Soleil marathon on Bravo. We comfort each other with the fact that at least we know where the children are and that they are not out driving around with all the drunks on the road. We swap stories about all the evil things we did when we were their age. Sex, drugs and alcohol? Oh hell Yes, but that was different, we were boys. Not daughters
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